


Hide and Seek

by call_me_yin



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Self-Doubt, ambiguous ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28388994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_yin/pseuds/call_me_yin
Summary: Tommy wants nothing more than to prove that he can handle being left alone.The figure haunting him seems to disagree.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 415





	Hide and Seek

“I should only be gone for an hour at most.”

“Alright.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes!”

Techno didn’t look convinced, and as much as the concern made Tommy’s blood boil, he couldn’t _really_ blame the guy. They’d hardly been living together a week, and Tommy had already picked up a habit of getting lost and having a meltdown whenever he was left on his own. Today would be different, though! He was going to be alone, sure, but he was _home,_ safe. Nothing here triggered him, and even if he did manage to work himself up to the point of panic, nothing could hurt him. He’d be fine.

And he _was_ fine, at first.

Tommy made sure to lock the doors as soon as Techno left, watching through the window as his fellow exile disappeared into the snow. It wasn’t quite a blizzard, but the weather was still much worse than what they preferred to travel in, especially alone. There wasn’t much of a choice, unfortunately. They were running out of coal to keep the fires lit; normally, that would’ve been fine (if slightly annoying), but Tommy’s injuries were acting up and Techno didn’t want to risk it. Tommy had tried to argue that he could just have a gapple if necessary, only for Techno to point out that they didn’t actually have that many gapples left. Tommy’s tendency to eat them whenever he got stressed had _kinda_ screwed them there.

It would be okay, though. There was enough fuel in the furnaces to keep them going for a few more hours, and Techno would be home long before they ran out. Tommy hated the idea of having to wait around, but the same thing causing the issue also happened to be keeping him from helping at all. At the beginning of his exile, he didn’t have the resources to properly tend to any wounds he sustained, and by the time he left... Well, he wasn’t even _eating_ most days, let alone trying to heal himself. Every injury he had was so much worse than it should’ve been. He _could,_ hypothetically, have gone with Techno, but they both knew he’d be more of a hindrance than anything else.

_You’re a liability, Tommy._

His breath hitched and his hand flew to the compass hanging round his neck, cool metal biting into his bandaged palm. The voice echoing in his ears was familiar, hauntingly so, and he hadn’t heard it for... how long, now? A month, at least, surely- long enough for his hair to grow out, for scars to form- _too long._

“Okay, to-do list!” he blurted out, staggering away from the window. He’d been thinking aloud a lot more ever since being exiled, just to drown out the silence that surrounded him. Even after moving into Techno’s house, even now that he had human interaction each day, it was a tough habit to break.

The _real_ to-do list was down in the basement, but the majority of tasks on it required leaving the house, and Tommy wasn’t too confident in his ability to use a ladder right now anyway. The patchwork of his back ached and itched, and tugged at his skin whenever he moved too quickly. ‘Scar tissue pain,’ Techno had called it. To Tommy, it was just a _sickening_ reminder of- of...

Fuck, maybe this was a mistake.

“No, no, c’mon,” he scowled. “Don’t be stupid, it’s literally been _five minutes._ I can do this.”

His hands were starting to shake. Just to give them something to do, he fumbled through one of Techno’s desks until he found a bobble, and awkwardly tried to tie his hair back. He hadn’t been out here long enough for it to get _too_ crazy, but this was still the longest it’d ever been, and the first time it was long enough to _put up_. It was _weird._ He needed to cut it, really - he just... hadn’t had the motivation yet.

“Okay. Y’know what? I’m gonna do _everything_ on the to-do list,” Tommy decided. He messed with his hair for a few seconds longer before letting his arms fall down to his sides, the muscles in his back protesting the prolonged use. “I’ll do everything, and then Technoblade will realise I’m not just some- some annoying _kid._ I’m a big man and I can take care of myself.”

While the real to-do list was tucked away downstairs, Techno had also made a shorter, more manageable one just for him. The first time he left Tommy alone with nothing else to do, he’d built a giant cobblestone tower in their front yard and let several zombies into the house, so Techno learned pretty quickly that he had to give the teen objectives whenever he went out. Anything to keep him busy.

When there was nothing to do, Tommy had to think. And when he started thinking, his thoughts would _always_ wander back to that beach, and his feet would always begin to follow. Too many times he’d found himself halfway across the tundra, dazed and confused, his mind spinning while Techno called his name in the distance.

So, he always had to be doing something. _Anything._

And right now, that was this list. It was just a page torn out of Techno’s notebook, written in the warrior’s familiar cursive.

  * _Brew invis pots (golden carrot + fermented spider eye)_



Tommy could practically hear the condescension in those parentheses through the paper. Sure, he only remembered how to make strength and swiftness potions, but those were the only ones he _had_ to make before all this! Tubbo was always the one who- who...

Tubbo...

His grip on the page tightened to the point it almost tore beneath his fingers.

“Invis pots,” he forced out through gritted teeth, putting the paper down and marching over to the chests in the corner of the room. Techno kept most of his ingredients in the basement, but he always left a few assorted reactants up here for easy access, in case of emergency. Tommy wasn’t sure if being unable to lift his arms counted as an _emergency,_ but it was definitely a problem.

One of their brewing stands was only loaded with water bottles, while the other two were primed and ready with awkward potions. Although he did look for Nether wart in the chest, there was none to be found, so Tommy was forced to count his losses and just put a carrot into the two prepared stands. That would only make six potions, but that would be enough, right?

Would Techno be disappointed?

“Why do I care?” Tommy glanced down, thoughts and memories beginning to tangle together. Why _did_ he care how his caretaker felt? Caretaker..?

Overseer.

‘Owner.’

Watcher.

He was _watching,_ making sure he didn’t step out of line, didn’t-

The brewing stand in front of him gurgled helpfully, and Tommy slowly released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

Fuck.

This was why he never gave himself time to think. Techno wasn’t watching him. Techno wasn’t- he wasn’t _Dream..._ Dream was a friend, for one.

_A friend?_

“He wants to kill me.”

_Does he?_

“He _hurt_ me.”

But Dream had helped him, too.

“He wants to- he- he blew up Logstedshire, because I-”

Tommy had hidden things. He’d lied _._ It was _his_ fault, he _deserved_ it, he-

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” he screamed at nothing, slamming his hand down on the table. The brewing stands rattled but, mercifully, stayed upright. The cuts and bruises on his fingers throbbed beneath peeling plasters, and his eyes burned with unshed tears, grounding him, reminding him that he was _here, now._ “Dream isn’t my friend. He’s a _bastard,_ and I- I _hate_ him...”

He almost jumped out of his skin when the second brewing stand bubbled.

Tommy robotically picked up the spider eyes, dropping them into the stands and watching closely until he saw the blaze powder begin to gradually erode them. With that same detached feeling, he returned to the to-do list, and crossed out the first task with a single shaky line.

He liked lists. It felt like he was actually making progress whenever he completed each objective.

Like he was improving.

  * _Eat something. NOT gapples_



Speaking of which...

The first week or so of exile, Tommy was the hungriest he had _ever_ been. He was _so_ tired, and his stomach was constantly growling, cramping and clawing at his insides with a vengeance. He’d eaten the food Dream offered on the first day, but after the first night, when that green prick had- when he... After the first night, Tommy would always toss the gifts away and spit on the sand for good measure.

And after the party (no one showed up, no one cared- Dream _lied,_ no one _knew_ ), Tommy’s appetite had simply left him. Looking at the cake he baked had made his stomach churn, and nothing he’d seen since had brought back the desire to eat. Gapples weren’t food, not really. They gave regenerative effects when consumed, so you could theoretically live off them, but there was practically no nutritional value. Plus, gold was very much toxic when regularly ingested, so you’d have to eat exponentially more gapples to stay even _remotely_ healthy.

Tommy weighed almost nothing, and hadn’t eaten anything but gapples for a week.

Techno was right to be worried.

It wasn’t Tommy’s fault, though! He just didn’t have any desire for food. Hell, he was only eating gapples for the energy boost and resistance. He felt safer, more secure, with that warmth in his veins.

But... he had said he was going to do _everything_ on the list.

Though he completely lacked any motivation to eat, Tommy forced himself to open one of the chests, and reach into their stockpile of jerky. He did have to wonder how Techno even got this much beef when there were no cows for miles. Or was that _why_ there were no cows? It didn’t really matter, he supposed.

He ended up sat on the ground in front of the chest, leaning against the wall next to him and gingerly nibbling at a single strip of jerky. His stomach seemed to abruptly remember that it needed food, and practically begged him to just _inhale_ the damn thing, but the meat tasted bland on his tongue and slid uncomfortably down his throat. Of all the things to make him want to give up, he never would’ve imagined one of them would be _eating_.

It took much longer than it reasonably should’ve, but he did eventually finish the strip. He was already starting to feel nauseous, though, not used to consuming anything with actual value. One would have to be enough... At least it was a _slight_ improvement, right?

No one would be disappointed, surely.

Not that he cared.

The potions had finished brewing by that point, so Tommy stood up again, careful not to irritate his back, and started looking through the chests for redstone. There were a few small dust particles at the very bottom, but that seemed to be it. He reluctantly closed the chest he was searching, trying to ignore the sense of dread slowly creeping up his spine. Techno hadn’t told him to extend the potions, and he’d only written down golden carrots and fermented spider eyes as ingredients, so... it was fine, right?

“Yeah. It’s fine,” he assured himself, but he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. They always used extended invisibility potions. Would Techno be mad that Tommy only did half the work?

Why did it matter?

“It _doesn’t_ matter.”

And it didn’t. He could just move on now. It was _fine._

  * _Change your bandages_



Before he left, Techno had stressed that Tommy only had to do that one if he felt up to it. Techno had been the one tending to the teen’s wounds so far, and though Tommy was eager to prove he could handle it by himself, he was also tired as fuck and currently recovering from infection. He wanted to do everything on the list, but... Well, he could always come back to that one. There was still some time until Techno returned.

Actually, how long had it been? Tommy’s perception of time had been skewed for weeks now, so when Techno said he’d be back in an hour, that didn’t really mean much. It took a good few minutes for potions to brew, and he’d spent a while eating, so it couldn’t be much longer now, right? Techno would be back soon.

“What if he’s not?”

It was fine. There was food and water and enough coal to fuel the furnaces till the end of the day. Tommy could just wait it out until Techno came back.

“What if he _doesn’t_ come back?”

What if he’d taken off into the snow with no plan to return? Tommy couldn’t follow in his state, and even if he could, he didn’t know how to navigate or track. He’d have no idea where he was going. Techno could easily strand him out here. And why wouldn’t he? So many times now, he’d expressed annoyance and frustration with the teen’s antics.

Tubbo used to say the same kind of things, and then...

Well.

“He wouldn’t leave me,” Tommy mumbled, glancing nervously towards the window. “Phil wouldn’t be happy if I just... died.” Regardless of Techno’s opinion on Tommy, his fondness for Phil was well-known by everyone. And Phil cared about his son. He wasn’t around much, but he still _cared_ , right? He was one of the few people to visit Logstedshire, even if it was only for one day. Even if Wilbur had to make him.

Something shifted, just outside the window next to the door, and Tommy’s addled brain instantly snapped to attention.

“Techno?”

No response.

Tommy frowned, wandering over to the window and peering out into the snow. It was a sheet of pure white, no pink or red to be seen. So... what had moved? He couldn’t see too much from the window, so he hesitantly grabbed the key and unlocked the door. He only opened it slightly, though it was still enough to let in a gust of icy wind. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the door open further, squinting and blinking rapidly as snowflakes assailed his eyes. It was impossible to see more than a few metres, but he was fairly sure there was nothing out on the stairs.

Weird.

Being out here did give him an idea, though. He couldn’t manage the ladders right now, but stairs _should_ be easier. It meant being outside in the freezing cold, but at least it would only be for a few moments. Tommy took a breath and braced himself for the worst, then put one hand to the wall and hurried down to the lower level of the house. His eyes started watering and every tiny wound began to ache; snow clung to his hair and eyelashes and clothes, the chill quickly seeping into his very bones. Numb fingers fumbled with the lock on the door, but he eventually managed to turn the key, bursting into the ground floor and panting as he slammed the door shut behind him.

That probably hadn’t been his brightest idea.

Hey, at least it worked! He was in the storage room now, and he _knew_ there was redstone in there somewhere.

Sure enough, after looking through just a few chests, he found a whole bag of the stuff. Grinning, he grabbed it and hauled it out of the chest, faltering slightly when the weight pulled at the muscles in his back. He paused, just for a moment, waiting for the pain to ebb before continuing. Once he had the bag in his arms, it was easy enough to adjust his grip and relieve his back.

“See?” Tommy chuckled, heading for the door. “I’m a genius. I don’t need the pig’s help!”

He nudged the door open with his elbow, grimacing at the blast of cold air, and made his way out into the snow. Getting back up the stairs was, admittedly, a little tougher than coming down, but it was still doable. He was actually doing just fine until he reached the top. The thick layer of snow made it hard to see exactly where the edge of each step was. It hadn’t been an issue before; this time, however, when he tried to put his weight down on the landing, he managed to completely miss the mark.

His boot skidded in the snow and Tommy abruptly lurched forward, the ground rushing up to meet him. It took him a heartbeat too long to realise his arms were occupied, and he was only able to turn at the last second, choking on a gasp as his shoulder smacked into hard stone bricks. Pain lanced through his arm and across his back, and for a few terrifying seconds he couldn’t _breathe_. His heart was pounding, his hands trembling against the bag of redstone he was clutching to his chest, icy wind soaking his hair and piercing straight through his tattered clothes to bite at his skin, numbing his ears and fingers and toes but refusing to fill his lungs and-

And then he caught his breath. The world calmed down, just enough for _him_ to calm down, and he let out a groan as he slowly pushed himself up onto his knees. His vision was blurry and unfocused, and it took him a moment to register that he could see red, a stark contrast to the crisp white surrounding him. Panic gripped at him and he reeled back, suddenly all too aware of the throbbing pain down his side. He hadn’t hit the ground _that_ hard, right? He wasn’t hurt, he was fine, he was _fine, he was fi-_

It was redstone dust.

“Oh.”

Tommy sighed, putting a hand to his head and trying his best not to start laughing at his own stupidity. He’d just spilled some of the redstone, there was no need to freak out like that.

“I deserved that,” he muttered to himself, readjusting his grip on the bag before cautiously standing up. Everything ached, but it wasn’t the worst he’d ever felt, and there wasn’t much point in complaining anyway.

As he was rising to his feet, he could’ve sworn he saw something move in the corner of his eye. A flash of green, shifting at the bottom of the staircase. Tommy’s thought process was... disjointed, to say the least.

_Creeper! Zombie, baby zombie- Phil? No. Green, green, Dream? Dream!_

A chill ran down his spine, and suddenly his instincts were _screaming_ at him to run, to hide, to _get away-_ He started backing away, gaze fixed on the base of the stairs, waiting for any sign of the apparent intruder. Techno wasn’t around, Wilbur wasn’t around, there was no one here to lie for him, to _protect_ him, there was- there was-

There was nothing down there. It was just a field of empty snow, marred only by his own footprints. He was freaking out over nothing. _Again._

“ _Stupid_ ,” he grumbled, glaring down at the ground beneath him. The relief of realising he was safe was completely drowned out by the frustration that his heart rate refused to slow down. Nothing had even happened, so there was no reason for him to be panicking so much.

Though he loathed to admit it, he could understand his own anxiety when it came to thinking about Logstedshire, or the Final Control Room. _Terrible_ things had happened there, and it was hard not to remember them. But this... This was ridiculous! He saw - _imagined_ \- just the slightest hint of _the colour green,_ and it almost sent him spiralling.

Pathetic.

Tommy kicked his boot through the snow a couple times, trying to hide the red powder amongst the white, then shoved the door with his good shoulder and stepped inside. After putting the redstone down on the table with the brewing stands, he turned back and locked the door, dropping the key next to the bag once he was done.

He just needed to calm down...

Being inside again was already helping fend off the cold, but his hair and clothes and bandages were all damp with melting snow, sucking the warmth out of him and generally feeling rather uncomfortable. He didn’t have any other clothes, but he _could_ change his bandages. Then he could cross it off the list, too!

Perching on the edge of the table, Tommy tugged up his sleeve and started trying to untie the bandage around his upper arm. He usually had Techno to help him with it, and it was a bit awkward undoing it with one hand, especially when he was still shaking this badly. He kept going, though, and soon enough the strip of cloth fell away, revealing a cluster of grazes and cuts. The skin was red and inflamed, but it did look a lot better than it had the past few days.

“I _am_ getting better.”

Tommy continued, peeling away bandages and plasters on his arms and legs and hands until every scratch and scrape was exposed. There were even dark bruises blossoming along his arm and at his hip, still sore from his fall. He looked... horrible, quite frankly, but he’d looked _so_ much worse just a week earlier. Having a safe place to stay and the resources to treat himself made a world of difference, clearly.

He was inspecting a scab on his knee, trying to remember just where he’d got it, when he heard the sound of doors opening downstairs. At first, he thought nothing of it, assuming it was simply Techno coming home. A minute slowly ticked by, and Tommy began to feel that something was... off. Techno would’ve said something by now, surely.

“Technoblade?” he called out, glancing towards the ladder.

Silence.

Shit. Fuck, had he- he hadn’t locked the downstairs door! _Anything_ could’ve wandered in just now. Had he let a zombie in again? Oh, man, Techno was gonna _kill_ him-

“Tommy.”

And just like that, the panic and worry instantly gave way to sheer, gripping _terror._ That wasn’t Techno’s voice. That was- that-

Oh, _god-_

The teen’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening until his head began to spin and his ears were ringing. What was- He had to move, why- why couldn’t he _move-_

A distinct creak, as someone put their weight on the ladder.

Purely on autopilot, Tommy grabbed one of the newly-brewed invisibility potions off a brewing stand and dropped to the floor next to the table. The box Techno had shown him, days ago now, was cramped and dark and set off his claustrophobia like nothing else, but it _was_ a good hiding place. His trembling fingers struggled to pull down the wooden slats, and he was sure he gave himself all sorts of splinters trying to force it, but he was far too flustered to care.

The box finally fell open, and he crawled inside and slammed it closed just as he heard the first footstep on the floorboards. He pressed back against the wall and put the potion bottle to his lips, chugging the elixir without daring to stop to breathe. Ice flooded his veins, and as he clasped a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp, he could see the tips of his fingers beginning to fade away.

More footsteps, tracing a path from the ladder over towards the table. The gentle sound of glass clinking, accompanied by a soft, familiar humming.

Tommy’s heart hammered in his chest as he slowly put down the empty potion bottle, praying that the small sound was muffled enough to go unnoticed. His free hand clutched at the front of his shirt; between his rapid heartbeat and his lungs straining for air, his chest was starting to ache.

The humming gradually faded and the footsteps continued past the table. Past the box.

“Tommy... I know you’re in here somewhere.”

The hand over his mouth gripped tighter, stress-bitten nails digging into his cheek, and he squeezed his eyes shut in defiance of the tears gathering in them. He had to stay calm, he had to- He _didn’t_ , really, he just had to stay _quiet._ Stay quiet, stay put, stay _alive._ He just had to wait it out until Techno came back, and then- then...

What if Techno didn’t come back?

Tommy curled in on himself further, a thin whine escaping him. He’d already been over this, Techno wouldn’t abandon him. He _wouldn’t._

But what if he didn’t have a choice?

Dream was smart, _too smart,_ he could- He _knew_ Techno was protecting Tommy. Dream _knew._ What if he... If anyone on this server had a _chance_ of hurting Techno, it was Dream. And he wouldn’t even have to do it directly. He was more than clever enough to know that. All he had to do was _hint_ at a threat towards someone Techno cared about, and the warrior would fold.

It was his one weakness.

Fuck.

“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be, Tommy.”

_This is already difficult for me, Tommy. Don’t make me do something I’ll regret._

It was the same thing. The same words, the same tone, as that first night in exile. That first- that-

The scars on his back twinged knowingly, and Tommy had to put both hands to his mouth to stifle a sob. He couldn’t be thinking about it, not here, not _now-_

That first night...

Techno had shown up, just to mock him. He’d gotten so frustrated and upset; when Dream came back, mere minutes after Techno left, Tommy had lashed out at _him._

The worst mistake of his life.

It was horrifyingly vivid - the memory of kneeling on that beach, choking on his own screams while Dream tore ragged holes in his back. His tormentor. His worst enemy, his _first_ enemy, his _only_ friend- the man who took two of his lives, but repeatedly saved his third, made him want to end it _himself-_ Dream, his nightmare.

Tommy would never forget that sound of snapping bones and tearing sinew, no matter how much he wanted to. He’d never forget the flood of adrenaline as a dozen bottles of healing potion were dumped over his back. Potions weren’t supposed to leave scars; they healed too quickly, but that time the injuries were simply too grievous, and now those marks would never fade from his skin. He would always remember the panic and distress in Wilbur’s voice when he found his little brother half-conscious on the sand in a pool of blood and feathers, desperately trying to make sure he was alright even as his mind actively repressed the scene in front of him.

Within hours, Wilbur had forgotten that his brother ever had wings.

Tommy could never forget.

Footsteps, again. Growing closer, this time - _too_ close. They came to a stop next to the box, and now the only thing separating Tommy and the figure that haunted his dreams was a flimsy square of wood. He was trembling, his back aching with the memory of healed wounds and his eyes burning with the tears he could no longer hold back.

He had to get out of here.

“Come on, Tommy. You disappeared without saying anything... I’ve been worried.”

Worried?

_He was worried?_

Dream was horrible- the worst! Why would he worry?

He went too far. He fucked up.

“I know I overreacted. You were right to be upset.”

He knew?

He regretted it.

Tommy was... right?

Tommy was never _right._ Tubbo and Techno and Dream had made that abundantly clear over the past month. He was loud and abrasive and annoying, he _deserved_ this. He deserved exile, and isolation, and- and-

_So why are you hiding?_

The teen flinched when he heard creaking again, and the sounds of movement slowly made their way upstairs. He waited, just for a few seconds, before giving in to the claustrophobia and kicking open the box. There was no way Dream _didn’t_ hear the wood hit the floor, but it was _fine,_ he was invisible, he didn’t have a _choice-_ He _had_ to get out.

Tommy staggered to his feet, still shaking all over, and turned to look at the table. The potions were gone; the bag of redstone had been tipped over, spilling dust across the surface, and the key...

_He’d taken the key._

The door was still locked. There was no way out but the _window._

Or... The downstairs door should still be open.

He just had to get down the ladder.

“Where are you, Tommy?”

No time for second guessing.

Tommy rushed over to the hole in the ground, kneeling down and reaching towards the ladder. It was awkward, considering he couldn’t see his own hands, and his shoulders already felt weak in anticipation of what was to come. He gripped the first rung, put his feet on one lower down, then slowly - _faster, come on, move!_ \- lowered himself onto the ladder. The second his arms were forced to hold some of his weight, it pulled at the scar tissue covering his back, and his nerves started _burning._ He gritted his teeth and let his head fall forward, resting his forehead against the marble wall.

“Keep it together, big man,” he whispered, hating the sound of his own pitiful voice, his own rapid breaths. He shouldn’t be this shaken up. He was the only person Dream was scared of, so why- _why_ did that bastard have so much power over him?

He hesitantly moved one foot down to the next rung, carefully shifting his weight so as to not hurt his back too much. If he lost it now, he... It wouldn’t end well, to say the least.

Two step, three step, four- He was moving so slowly, and he had to, but it was _infuriating._ At any moment the intruder could give up on the attic and climb back down the ladder, and Tommy would _not_ be quick enough to get out of the way.

He was halfway down when that fear became reality.

The slightest of sounds, almost imperceptible, directly above him. When he glanced up, he saw green, and self-preservation instantly threw all caution to the wind.

However nervous and reluctant he’d been seconds before, however careful not to take risks- it was all pointless as soon as he started hurrying. His fingers fumbled, his feet slipped on the rungs; pain drew sharp lines on his back as his movements grew clumsy and uncoordinated. He made it two more steps. Then his grip on the wood grew too loose, his foot missed the next rung and hit the wall, and his heart leapt into his throat as he fell to the ground below.

Tommy hit the stone floor hard enough to force the air from his lungs and make him see stars. By some miracle, his head connected last, and though his vision swam and darkened he managed to hold on to consciousness. His whole back was on fire, his ears were ringing and everything hurt and he could taste metal and salt from blood and tears and he couldn’t breathe but- he _had. To get. Away._

Gasping and wheezing, he rolled over onto his front and shakily pushed himself up on his elbows. He tried to crawl forwards, but he was winded and the instinctive panic kept him rooted in place, fighting for air. He needed to breathe, he needed to _move-_ he was going to _die-_

He didn’t know how long it took for his lungs to start cooperating again. He didn’t _want_ to know. It was long enough for his invisibility to run out, at least. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, the pain and fear drawing out every moment, every frantic heartbeat, every shuddering movement. Were it not for the adrenaline, he surely would’ve blacked out already.

Finally, _finally-_ the air rushed back into his lungs. He hacked and coughed, spat blood onto the bricks, struggled to stand up- Listing dangerously, he put one hand to the wall, blinking away moisture as his gaze sought out the exit. Two spruce doors, still slightly ajar, leading out to the tundra- to freedom.

Tommy stumbled with each step he took, focusing everything he had on staying upright and continuing onward. The ladder was pretty close to the doors - a small mercy. He took his hand off the wall, about to lurch forward and push at the door...

Only for something- some _one_ to grab at his arm and _pull._

His momentum sent him straight back to the floor. He managed to awkwardly catch himself on one knee, sending a white-hot jolt of pain up his leg and back.

“Really, Tommy...”

No, no, _no-_

He glanced back, eyes wide- Everything was dim and blurry, but he could never forget that mask. Cold, unfeeling porcelain, forever projecting an emotionless smile, forever hiding the truth beneath, the grinning face and dark intentions. And, in the corner of his eye - that familiar shade of gleaming netherite, glimmering with enchantments that could end him with a mere touch.

He was going to die- he didn’t _want_ to die- he had to get away, he had to, he had to he had to he didn’twanttodienotanymorehecouldntdieheregetawaygetawayGETAWAY-

“GET _AWAY_ FROM ME!”

A visceral scream that ripped at his vocal chords tore itself from his throat. Tommy kicked out, and he hit something- he didn’t know what, he didn’t _care_ what, it was _something_ , it _connected,_ it was _enough-_ the grip on his arm loosened, and he wrenched himself free, scraping his hands on the floor and wall in his rush to put more distance between him and _it._

He threw himself at the doors and they immediately gave way, sending him tumbling out into the snow. It was a much softer landing than inside the house, and he took full advantage of it, scrambling to his feet in seconds and taking off without daring to look back.

He barely made it ten metres before his legs began to fail him.

Everything was aching, and the uneven snow kept shifting beneath him, as if actively trying to trip him up. He was so shaky and unsteady, cold wind assaulting him with tiny shards of ice and blinding him with thick snowflakes. Between the pain and the weather and the exhaustion as his adrenaline started to run out, it felt like the universe was just conspiring to not let him escape.

But he had to.

He _had_ to...

He...

A clump of snow crumbled under his boot, and Tommy collapsed with a thump.

He couldn’t die here... He had to...

“Tommy?”

He didn’t want to look up, and when he did he could hardly see anything, his vision blurred by tears and fatigue and obscured by clouds of his own breath. It was almost impossible to tell who he was looking at, but it _was_ a who-

“Fuck off,” he spat weakly. He tried to push himself up, only to wince into the snow a moment later when his arms gave out under him.

“Tommy, what the heck are you doing outside?”

They were crouched next to him now. Close. _Too close._

A hand on his shoulder-

“No!” He recoiled, feebly attempting to bat the hand away and failing quite miserably.

It retracted on its own soon enough, followed a few seconds later by a rush of wind over his head and a heavy warmth settling across his back.

“It’s okay, Tommy. It’s alright.”

The voice was soft, gentle- it spoke of cosy cabins and friendly rivalry, not... splintered trees or bloodied sand. It wasn’t _him._

Tommy dared to glance up again, and this time he registered the familiar shades of pink.

“You’re okay, Tommy.”

“Techno?” He blinked a few times, squinted-

“Hey.” It was him, though he was lacking the signature red attire.

The pieces fit together after a moment or two, when Tommy looked back and recognised the thick fabric and fur draped over him.

“Your cloak’s getting all wet,” he pointed out, voice small.

Techno just shook his head. “It’s fine.”

He reached out again, and Tommy didn’t pull away this time. With Techno’s help, he slowly sat up, drawing the cloak tighter round his shoulders with trembling fingers. They were already numb.

“Why are you out here, Tommy?” Techno’s tone was concerned, not even _slightly_ accusatory, and yet Tommy still couldn’t help but feel like he’d done something wrong.

“I had to- h-he was- he...” Tommy turned to look at the cabin, trailing off when he saw the open doors. There was no one there, and... there was only _one_ set of footprints leading to the entrance: his own.

That... _how?_

“He?” Techno prompted, resting a hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“Um...” Tommy hesitated, glancing from the cabin to Techno and back again a few times. Then his gaze fell, fixating on the rapidly bruising handprint on his arm. “I was just... seeing shit, I guess.”

Techno was silent for a minute, then sighed. He stood up, dusting some snow off himself before holding a hand out to Tommy. “C’mon, let’s get inside before we both freeze to death.”

Tommy frowned but didn’t protest, reaching up and letting Techno haul him to his feet. He stumbled almost immediately, and though he stayed upright, he didn’t miss how Techno kept one hand hovering by his side the whole way back to the cabin. If he weren’t so tired, he might’ve been annoyed by it, but after the non-stop fear and adrenaline of the past hour, it was honestly... reassuring.

He was okay.

Dream wasn’t around.

Techno was here.

He was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I may not respond, but I do read every comment.
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me @call-me-yin on Tumblr!


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